


Peace on Earth

by gakorogirl



Series: Teen Leaguers [2]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9051838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gakorogirl/pseuds/gakorogirl
Summary: Dick and Kara go to Kansas for Christmas.
Donna crashes the Wayne Christmas Gala.
Wally and Hartley find a girl in the snow.
Christmas, half a year before the founding of the Justice League.





	

**-December 20th-**

“Dick, I can’t go to  _ Kansas  _ with  _ Supergirl.  _ Gotham would fall apart without us, and I’m  _ sure  _ the Joker is going to try something big on Christmas. And if not him then Poison Ivy. Can you imagine what she could do with Christmas trees-”

“Kara invited both of us,” Dick protests. “But if you think it’s a bad idea for both of us to go, then maybe we could take shifts of a few days? We’re invited until New Year’s, if-”

Barbara frowns. “If you want to go, then go for it. I’m supposed to show up at the big Wayne Christmas gala with my dad, and the rest of the week is booked too. Not sure how I could explain vanishing off to Kansas for half of break. I’ll handle Gotham while you’re away, though.” She pulls on her cowl and opens a window, letting in a few snowflakes as she slips out into the darkness.  _ Silver Bells  _ is playing from someone’s party, far off in the night, and Gotham is brighter than ever with Christmas lights.

After a moment, Dick follows, leaping into the cold wind. There’s still a long few hours of patrol left before morning, and crime certainly won’t stop just because of Christmas. He perches on a fire escape and catches a snowflake on his tongue.

It’s going to be a good Christmas.

 

**-December 23rd-**

“I’m so glad you could make it out here for a couple days,” beams Kara at breakfast. Dick is nearly asleep in his waffles, having spent the better part of the night before last trying to track down Poison Ivy (Babs was right about the Christmas trees) and the last night driving down to Kansas. He gulps down a mug of coffee and blinks at Kara, trying to process whatever she just said. 

“Are you holding a purple  _ chicken?”  _ he says, mildly confused. 

“She has something wrong with her,” says Kara by way of explanation, stroking the chicken’s head. It’s more of a light lilac-grey than really purple, and it looks droopy. “She had a seizure or something this morning, so we’re going to keep her in the house.”

The hen clucks quietly and its head flops to the side.

“There is something very wrong with that chicken,” agrees Dick, nodding gravely.

Ma Kent smiles brightly at him. “Are you finished with your breakfast?” she asks. “You can always feel free to ask for more, you look like you need it.” (Maybe he is a little malnourished- most of his money and the money Babs makes from testing security systems goes towards maintaining their equipment and paying the rent on his loft.) 

He considers his empty plate for a moment. “I’ll take more coffee,” he says.

“I’m not allowed to drink coffee,” Kara says as he pours sugar into another cup and gulps it down. The chicken clucks softly, and Dick’s phone buzzes.

“That’s Babs,” he says. “I should probably answer it.” 

**Oracle:** did you make it to ks?

**Nightwinging:** yeah!! you sure you don’t want 2 come down for a few days?

**Oracle:** maybe next year

“So,” announces Kara as she sets the chicken into a large plastic box with wood shavings in the bottom. She throws in a few slivers of apple and fills up a small bowl with water. (As soon as she puts it in the box, the chicken steps in the bowl and tips it over. Kara sighs and refills it.) “I was thinking we could watch some Christmas movies today! We normally do it a  _ little  _ closer to Christmas, but you probably want something low-stress to start off with. Do you like  _ ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas?” _

Dick squints and tries to remember details of Christmas movies he watched now and again growing up. His family never really  _ did  _ Christmas, but sometimes the other performers would watch old Christmas movies when the weather got colder. “Is that one of the stop motion ones?”

“It’s traditional animation,” Kara says, drifting up into the air and flipping over so her feet point towards the ceiling and her hair tumbles in a cascade around her head. “With the mice.”

“What about  _ How the Grinch Stole Christmas?” _

“If it’s Christmas, we’ve got it,” Kara tells him brightly and rushes out of the room, returning a few seconds later with a wobbling stack of VCR tapes in her arms. Dick raises an eyebrow and picks one of the tapes, turning it in his hands with a skeptical look.

“Can you still  _ play  _ these?” he asks, and Kara nods with a broad grin.

Dick takes a picture of the tapes and sends it to Babs, badly muffling a snicker. From behind him, Ma Kent says, “If you two have the time, I need some help with decorating the tree.” Within a heartbeat, Kara has blasted past Dick and into the living room, leaving the tapes in a messy pile on the table. Dick grabs a few that look good and follows her into the living room to find her opening cardboard boxes of ornaments. (Her method of opening them seems to mainly be grabbing the top panels and tearing them off, tape and all.)

He sets down the movies on a couch and pulls a knife to start neatly cutting open one of the larger boxes. “Was there anything like this on Krypton?” he asks, and Kara shakes her head, hunching her shoulders a little. 

“Hey,” Dick says. “Maybe we can start a movie while we decorate. There’s a TV in here, right?” He reaches out and grabs a movie at random. “Um.  _ Miracle on 34th Street?” _

“We’re watching that Christmas Eve,” Kara tells him. She’s already perked up again and leans over to rifle through the movies.  “I vote today we watch  _ Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town,  _ and maybe  _ It’s A Wonderful Life,  _ I think that’s still in the other room, and then  _ The Muppet Christmas Carol  _ and  _ Rudolph.”  _

“Oh,” says Dick, a little overwhelmed by the speed at which she rattled off the titles. “Which one was in the other room? I’ll go get it.”

“ _ It’s A Wonderful Life. _ ”

Kara picks up a long golden tinsel garland and floats into the air to start looping it around the topmost branches of the tree as Dick heads into the kitchen and looks through the tapes still on the table. He picks up  _ It’s A Wonderful Life  _ and returns to the living room. “Looks good,” he says, and rifles through the ornaments spread across the carpet to pick up a silver garland and wrap it around the tree. “Are we going for any color scheme?”

“Just whatever works,” says Kara, lifting a glass icicle and placing it one one of the outermost branches. “I’ll start the movie.”

They’re well into the first movie and the tree is halfway decorated- and Dick has almost knocked over several pieces of furniture by climbing on them to reach the higher branches- when Ma Kent appears with a tray of cookies. “Anyone care for some snacks?”

“Gosh, I’d love some!” Dick says enthusiastically, and within five minutes both he and Kara have forgotten the tree and are sprawled out on the floor with cookies and hot chocolate.

 

**-December 24th-**

Barbara takes a mug of hot chocolate from a tray and looks around at the gala, taking in the color and music and making a quick mental map of the room. Mostly Gotham elites, a few of whom she strongly suspects to be affiliated with the Court of Owls. The Waynes aren’t involved with the Court for sure, there’s been a hit out on them for so long that nobody even tries any more- so most likely she won’t happen to overhear any news about the Court at this particular party. There’s Selina Kyle, there’s Oliver Queen trying and failing to chat up the lead singer of the band. 

She sees Thomas and Martha Wayne nearby, Thomas looking impassive and a little bored and Martha- well,  _ sparkling,  _ talking to half a dozen investors and  _ Lex Luthor  _ all at once _.  _

“Hello?” 

Babs turns around and comes face to face with Bruce Wayne.

“Hello, Mr. Wayne,” she says politely. They’ve talked twice before, in passing (not counting the time she bombarded him with cat videos in the middle of the night.) She’s not sure what he wants, so she says, “It’s nice weather.” It  _ is  _ nice outside, a soft fresh snowfall obscuring the sharp edges and the grit of Gotham. Fat snowflakes drift down from the sky, brushing against the huge windows around the room.

Bruce looks faintly surprised. “Is it?” he asks, and looks out the window. He checks his phone briefly then looks back up at her, typing something out without glancing down at the screen. “So. Oracle, I presume?”

Babs freezes and begins to put up a confused smiling mask.  _ At least he doesn’t know about Batgirl. Probably. Maybe. _

“You’re not in trouble,” says Bruce, waving his hands in a motion that was probably meant to be comforting but gave up halfway through. “You’re...very skilled. It took us months to track you down,” he adds in a lower voice. “Would you be interested in a part-time position with WayneTech?”

“You’re offering me a  _ job?”  _ She considers for a moment. “I’m very busy,” she says doubtfully. But on the other hand, more money means improved equipment, and Dick will be home soon to help out with the vigilante side of things… and she already spends a good deal of her evening online before suiting up.

“I’d pay, of course-” Bruce starts, and Babs nods slowly.

“After New Year’s, maybe?” she says. Dick will be back by then, and they can take turns patrolling. Bruce nods and hands her his card with a bright smile. 

“Talk to you then,” he says, and walks off into the crowd before she can answer.

Something buzzes in her purse and she pulls out her phone.

**Nightwinging:** so how’s gotham?

**Oracle:** Good. at wayne gala. put joker in jail last night so hoping for a quiet christmas (as if)

**Blue Skies:** u people have too many supervillains

wait wayne gala as in bruce wayne??

**Oracle:** yeah. he actually sort of hired me. not totally sure what happened there?? but it looks like batgirl&nightwing are getting some cash

**Nightwinging:** holy improved equipment oracle

did he know it was you sending the cat videos?

**Oracle:** probably

**Blue Skies:** wait u talked to BRUCE WAYNE??

**Oracle:** oh no please tell me you don’t like him

**Blue Skies:** what

no

but like hes an actual celebrity

and u talked to him

cool

**Oracle:** ok

**Blue Skies:** I hear the wayne butler is like a secret agent

**Nightwinging:** are you sure you’re not thinking of artemis fowl

**Oracle:** the butler bears looking into. not sure if he’s here tho

**Oracle:** speaking of bruce wayne I think they’re trying to get him to sing?? his parents are there and so is my dad and selina kyle

**Nightwinging:** she’s supposed to be in jail?

**Oracle:** no she got out two weeks ago. 

**Blue Skies:** who??

**Oracle:** selina kyle aka catwoman. as far as our villains go she’s not bad. dick doesn’t like her because she keeps trying to hire him&calls him kitten

**Nightwinging:** told her I didn’t like the name catlad. she took offense.

**Blue Skies:** chatnoir.png

**Oracle:** wait I think he’s gonna do it his mom like dragged him onto the stage

he looks so awkward someone save him 

oh my god

…

he’s really good

**Blue Skies:** wait really

**Oracle:** hang on video incoming

here you go merry christmas

**Nightwinging:** whoa

**Blue Skies:** I feel even more festive than usual

“Is that  _ Wonder Girl?”  _ someone asks next to Barbara with a gasp, and Babs turns to see people pointing towards the door, a few even dropping their champagne glasses. There is a girl with long blue-black curls walking across the ballroom, wearing an indigo dress that glitters like the night sky and nine-inch sparkling heels. The crowd parts around her, staring at the glowing lasso at her waist and the elegant filigree sword slung across her back.

“Look at that sword,” breathes a boy beside her that Babs remembers from a party two years before- Oliver Queen’s ward, Roy Harper. Thirteen years old. Short auburn hair, blue eyes, they say he has a genius-level intellect. She never actually talked to him, though.

Wonder Girl looks around before walking over towards them, and Babs tries not to stare. (Roy, on the other hand, looks so shocked he might pass out.)

“This food looks good,” says the girl. She has a hint of an accent, and now that she’s close-up Babs can see that she isn’t as old as she looked from a distance. Maybe thirteen. Not as old as fifteen.

“The Waynes always throw great parties,” Babs answers. “I haven’t had a chance to try much of the food yet, though.” She takes a stuffed mushroom off a tray and watches wide-eyed as the girl takes  _ seven.  _ “Those are… pretty rich,” Babs warns.

Wonder Girl blinks at her, and then looks down at the plate. “I’ll be fine,” she says mildly. 

“My name’s Barbara Gordon. You don’t have to tell me yours, though, obviously.”

“Donna,” says Wonder Girl as she adds roughly a third of a platter of shrimp to her plate. She doesn’t give a surname, and Babs wonders if she has one. 

“Is that Bruce Wayne?” asks Wonder Girl, nodding at Bruce, who is now talking to a few youngish guys that Babs remembers were trying to raise money for some startup tech company. Donna’s expression changes, becoming sharp and focused, and she sets down her overloaded plate on the edge of a table.

“That’s him,” Roy confirms. “I’m surprised he showed up. You missed him singing, though.”

“He’s the CEO,” says Babs with a shrug. “He’s obligated to make an appearance at big events like this.” She looks around to find Donna and sees her walking towards the Waynes purposefully, her hand straying towards the loops of the lasso at her hip, and after a moment Babs slips after her silent as a prayer, relying on Wonder Girl’s tendency to attract stares to conceal herself.

It works, everyone too fixated on the girl in the glittering dress to notice another girl moving through the crowd just behind her. Donna’s gaze is focused on a broad-shouldered man with greying hair, pulling a small girl through the crowd behind him. He is intent on Bruce, but not unaware of Donna, and casts her a cold suspicious glance. (But still, he does not notice Babs, who is also watching him and frowning. She begins to move through the crowd, ducking under arms and weaving between tables.)

But before Babs can reach the man-  _ she can see the outline of a knive in his jacket sleeve, he walks like an assassin _ \- the girl looks directly at her with dark liquid eyes and lets go of her father’s hand. He barely glances down before melting away into the crowd, and Babs is left staring into a pair of unsettling eyes that are so dark they don’t seem to have pupils. “Hello,” she says, warily.

The girl tilts her head, dark hair cascading over her lacy white dress. 

In the background, Babs hears gunfire, and she wheels around into a combat stance to see Donna grabbing the assassin and throwing him into a table. Bullets strike the crystal chandelier overhead and send down a rain of shards.

A blur of white flickers in the corner of her eye. The tiny girl runs past Babs and ducks into the panicking crowd, weaving between the running legs. Babs chases after her, battling against the flow of the crowd as Donna tackles Bruce to the ground just as the assassin pulls a handgun out of his jacket and opens fire again. (The gun he was using earlier is lying on the floor, a crumpled ruin. Babs is impressed he got up again after being smashed into that wall.)

She sees the girl holding a knife.

“Wonder Girl! Attacker at five o’clock!”

Donna’s head snaps up and her gaze focuses on the girl in the white dress, who freezes now that she’s been seen. The small girl doesn’t seem panicked, but she looks around the room with a terrifying intensity and Babs can see her registering the exits with the coolness and precision of a trained soldier. 

And then the police flood into the room, and Donna drifts up into the air to hover near the chandelier. When Babs looks down again, the girl in the white dress is gone. Bruce stands up and brushes off his jacket, looking less shocked than she would’ve expected.

“Babs? What are you doing here?”

“...Hey, dad.”

The assassin throws a grenade and the wall blows apart in a cloud of ash. “He’s getting away!” somebody shouts. As the smoke clears, nothing is left except a gaping hole. A few snowflakes drift into the room.

“I’ll track them down,” Donna says, swooping overhead and then out the broken wall, her glittering dress blending exactly with the starry sky.

Babs doubts this. She’ll need to check her records to find any mention of the two assassins, and she focuses on his face- broad chin, salt-and-pepper hair, pale cruel eyes and a scar at the left corner of his mouth. She’d put him at just over six feet, maybe two hundred and fifty pounds. The girl, dark dark eyes and shoulder-length black hair, four feet and a few inches. As soon as everything is settled enough for her to slip away, she’ll be tracking them down.

“Was anyone hurt?” Bruce asks anxiously, looking around.

“It looks like you were the target,” says Commissioner Gordon. “The assassin didn’t seem interested in anyone else, not even your parents.”

“Christmas miracle,” says Bruce.

****

**-December 25th-**

“Hartley?” calls Wally, exploding into Hartley’s apartment with a roasted turkey in his hands. “Guess what someone left out for me! It had a note and everything- Hartley?” The lights aren’t on, but they try not to use the electricity too much.

Not in the living room or kitchen or dining room.

Not in his room.

Not in the lab.

Wally throws the turkey in the oven and perches on the counter. He would’ve thought for sure that Hartley would be home on  _ Christmas,  _ but-  _ maybe he’s in the college engineering lab _ ? Wally runs over flicker-quick and checks the lab. It’s empty. 

Nothing’s changed when he reaches Hartley’s apartment again, and Wally changes into plainclothes and flops down onto the couch to wait. A few minutes go by, and he’s about to run out and check the city  _ again  _ when Hartley stumbles into the living room dragging an unconscious body.

“Hartley?” Wally says, bouncing upright. “What did you-”

“Nothing,” says Hartley. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with her- drugged, maybe? Saw her collapse. Brought her back here.” It’s a girl with hair as brilliant red as Wally’s own, wearing a jean jacket much too light for this time of year and snow-covered ballet flats. A bright pink shirt is barely visible underneath the jacket.

Wally frowns. “Maybe she got too cold?” he says, and then the girl’s eyes flicker open, a green so bright they almost glow. She struggles to her feet and rubs her forehead. 

“I’m used to the cold,” she says, and looks around. “Does anyone else live here?”

“Just Hartley,” Wally tells her. “Sometimes me. Sometimes Hartley’s boyf-”

Hartley halfheartedly throws a pillow at him.

“In the apartment building. How many people?”

“Maybe a hundred, probably less. Why?” 

Shrugging, the girl moves to perch on the arm of Hartley’s rundown sofa. She kicks her feet loosely against the sofa and brushes her hair out of her face. Wally glances at Hartley, confused, and he shrugs. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Hartley says carefully, “What  _ did  _ happen back there? Do you need to get to a hospital?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll be okay, in a little while,” she says. Her voice is tired, a little strained. Wally would have guessed that she was Hartley’s age or a little older, but her voice is high and childlike. “My name is Megan Morse.”

“Wally West.”

“Hartley Rathaway.”

Briefly, Megan seems to recognize the surname, but she doesn’t make any kind of comment. (Hartley’s very public rejection by his parents was splashed across every media outlet in the country three years ago, to various levels of approval or anger.) Hartley blinks, and even Wally is a little surprised at Megan’s lack of reaction. Usually people respond with  _ “Your parents kicked you out, right?”  _ or  _ “I followed the story about your family a few years ago,”  _ or  _ “ _ That  _ Hartley Rathaway?” _

On one memorable occasion, Wally remembers Hartley actually facing down a woman in the middle of a grocery store and demanding to know why, if she’d watched the  _ news  _ and thought it was so  _ terrible,  _ she didn’t do anything to  _ help him. _

_ (“You went totally off the grid for two and a half years and became a supervillain,”  _ Wally reminded him that afternoon.  _ “Nobody could have found you to help in the first place.” _

_ “So why not help someone else?”  _ Hartley had asked, staring out the window at the falling autumn leaves.  _ “There’s no shortage of kids out on the streets.” _ )

“Do I smell food?” Hartley asks, straightening up. “I didn’t think we had anything left.”

Wally snaps his fingers and only barely manages to keep himself from using his speed as he runs over to the stove and pulls out the warm turkey. “Someone- um- left me this,” he says with a glance at the girl on the couch.

“For the Flash,” she says with a quiet smile, and Wally almost drops the turkey. 

“Ah- no, just as a… a…”

“It’s okay,” Megan tells him. “I… um, I’m a mind reader. Sort of. Your thoughts are very loud and fast, it’s hard not to listen to them.” She interlaces her fingers and looks down at her hands. “Sorry.”

Behind her, Hartley quietly puts his flute back into a cabinet. “You’re welcome to stay and eat with us. I wish we had enough food to make this a proper dinner,” he adds with a small sigh, then takes the turkey from Wally and sets it on the counter. 

“I can go see if anyone else left out food,” Wally volunteers, and shoots out of the room. He changes clothes as he runs and then weaves through the city, grabbing a basket of rolls, a plate of half-frozen chocolate chip cookies, a still-warm dish covered in tin foil, a loaf of bread and three apples. And then he shovels a few driveways to make up for the food. After he drops off the food in the apartment, he zips back out, nearly falls on the icy streets, and tells Heatwave to  _ stop melting all the snow,  _ then sticks the cookies in the oven to thaw them out.

“Hey,” says Hartley once Wally stops for long enough to process sound again. He waves his phone in Wally’s face. “Bruce Wayne sang  _ White Christmas  _ at a party last night, some girl uploaded it to Youtube.”

“Isn’t that the party that was on the news where Wonder Girl got into a fight with an assassin?” asks Wally, hopping up onto the couch and leaning over to see the screen as Hartley sits down. Megan leans over, holding her long hair back with one hand to keep it out of the way.

“I think so,” says Hartley. “There’s footage of  _ that,  _ too, it looks like. You just have to love the digital age.” He turns up the volume on his phone and adjusts his hearing aids.

“He can sing really well,” Megan whispers about halfway through, then bolts upright. “Do you smell burning?”

Before she finishes the statement Wally is speeding into the kitchen and throwing open the oven. He almost reaches in to retrieve the cookies with his bare hands before rethinking it and grabbing an oven mitt out of the drawer. They’re okay, but a little black on the edges. “I got the cookies,” he calls back over his shoulder.

“Well,” Hartley says, “We might as well eat now.” In a crackle of light, the table is set and Wally slumps back against the wall, worn out.

“Good thing we’re about to eat,” he says. “I’m  _ starving.”  _

Hartley pulls up a playlist of Christmas music on his phone and sets it on the table, pushing the turkey to one side so the phone can take the center place. “Who wants drumsticks?” he asks. 

“What’s a drumstick?” asks Megan. Wally blinks at her, baffled.

“You’ve eaten turkey before, right?”

“On sandwiches, sometimes.” She pauses and adds in a helpful voice, “I’ve seen people eat it on TV in Christmas movies. At the end, usually.”

“Where did you say you were from?” Hartley asks her as he starts to carve the turkey. “Wally, see what’s in that covered dish.” Upon inspection, the dish proves to be filled with melted sweet potatoes and marshmallow. 

“I’m, um, from…” 

There’s a long pause before Megan says in a rush, “I’m from Mars.”

“ _ What?”  _

Wally stares at her and doesn’t notice a large spoonful of sweet potato dropping onto the table. “You don’t  _ look  _ like you’re from Mars,” he says finally.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” Megan tells him, and a soft green ripples across her skin as her eyes turn a pale bright yellow. Within a few seconds, a tall thin creature in Megan’s jean jacket and sparkly shirt is perched on the chair, looking back at Wally with angled amber eyes. “This is what Martians look like.”

She flinches back as Wally appears in front of her, staring at her wide-eyed. He picks up one of her three-fingered hands and turns it in his own hands, and Megan flinches as electricity jumps onto her skin. “Sorry,” says Wally, taking a step back. “That used to happen a lot more.”

“I assume your name isn’t  _ Megan,  _ then,” Hartley says. He’s nearly as surprised as Wally, but he hasn’t stopped carving the turkey. He puts the spoon into the sweet potatoes and rearranges the cookies, and then stacks them into a pile and unstacks them. Hartley likes to have something to do with his hands when he’s nervous.

“It’s M’gann,” she replies, making a soft guttural sound in the back of her throat. “M’gann M’orzz.” She sighs. “I got overwhelmed by all the people outside. Martians are a telepathic race, and we’re much more careful not to leak emotions and thoughts than humans are. That’s why I fainted.”

“Are you doing all right now?” asks Hartley, and M’gann nods.

“You think in colors,” she tells him. “It’s different.”

“Oh,” he says quietly. “That makes sense.” He pushes his hair back from his ears and taps a hearing aid. “I’m deaf.”

M’gann leans forward and tilts her head, starting to reach out to touch his ear. Hartley grabs her hand before she can touch him. “Don’t do that.”

“It’s not a problem on Mars,” she says. “We almost always communicate telepathically anyway.”

“I just ran across the Twins and I’m ready to  _ eat,”  _ Wally announces, sitting down and crossing his arms, and Hartley barks a laugh. 

“Then let’s eat,” he says. 

On the table, the phone starts to play a tinny rendition of  _ Winter Wonderland.   _ After a few minutes and several helpings of turkey and sweet potatoes, Wally announces, “This is the best Christmas  _ ever. _ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone's having a great day, whether or not you celebrate Christmas :)
> 
> This special marks the first appearances of several major and not-so-major Teenleague characters, many of whom we won't be seeing again for quite a while. In order, we have the introduction of Bruce, Roy, Cass, Hartley, and M'gann! In a previous version of the Christmas Eve party Tim, Jason, and Harper were going to make brief cameos but they were cut because it started seeming less like a story and more like a way to shoehorn in as many characters as possible.
> 
> This takes place seven or eight months before the founding of the Justice League, and has some overlap with M'gann's origin story that you'll be getting next week~


End file.
